


Thespians

by thatkidryder



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Pavus family dwelling, Pre-Canon, Secret Crush, Sex Toys, Teenagers, Young Ardant Lavellan, Young Dorian Pavus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 10:50:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9178381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatkidryder/pseuds/thatkidryder
Summary: Ardant Lavellan is a young servant of the Pavus Household. He works there under his mother, as one of the few hopefuls, hard at work to earn enough money to travel south and away from Tevinter. Dorian, growing in magical ability and snark, is home with his family in an interval before being shipped off to yet another Circle or Magical Mentor of significant standing.In this scene, Ardant stumbles upon a curious object while tending Dorian's room while the family is away.





	

Ardant was willing to admit, there was still much he had to learn about socks. Though it had been stowed in the bureau along the young master’s stockings and leggings, unlike the rest, this sleeve was of polished wood rather than fabric, yet just as soft to the touch. It was the size of a sock, though no foot could enter. No, he thought, as he held it in his hand and felt his trousers shift slightly, this was not a sock. It was hollow, not like the phallus’s he had encountered in the past, or rather, seen. This piece mimicked the other side of the act, and had a dial, which controlled to his amazement, the volume of the chamber.

It was not quite the end of his day shift- the Magister’s family would return in a few more hours from wherever they had gone and again occupy the rooms they had cluttered at daybreak. A portrait of Dorian, which Magister Halward had given as a lukewarmly received gift to the Lady Aquinea, kept a smug look about the room at all times, leaving Ardant never feeling entirely alone regardless. The corner of the room, by the bureau where Ardant stood, was partially sheltered due to a modesty screen that Dorian protested at every opportunity. Ardant smiled to himself at the though of the screen hiding them together instead of separating them. Ardant replaced the clean clothes and considered the polished thing. He felt along the inside- it was smooth, but not flat. And as he stroked, he noted an oily residue that began to allow his finger to glide across the inner workings. His heart pounded at the potential. He shared a quarter with the slaves his age, and there was never a moment’s privacy. Here, on duty, there could be no one but him supposed to enter Dorian’s chambers. Dorian’s chambers…His heart began to pound in his chest as the criminality of what he desired flashed through his mind.

He was lucky to have his position working under his mother. He paced and rocked on his heels. Day after day, saving every cent and working every hour imaginable to maybe one day return to the south. Then two months ago, the Magister’s son had returned home. Ardant had lived in Tevinter all his life, he knew better than to expect anything more than indifference or cruelty from the boy. But the timbre of the young man’s voice sent pleasant pins down Ardant’s sides from the first time he heard it, and the lad’s roughish habit of being transferred from Circle to Circle in the land of the greatest magicians delighted his imagination. Dorian was clever, so clever he could trick any Enchanter to trust him with the most difficult and dangerous of spells only to bend them to his own devices. To call it a crush, was to insult the extent to which Ardant hoped and prayed for some confirmation these feelings were not his alone.

There were moments, yes; hands lingering as books were retrieved, eyes that followed as Ardant passed before him, small smiles that disappeared when anyone else looked that way. But he was not in the Pavus household for that reason. He and his mother had already come so far the risk was too great to pursue, but a quick second alone? An empty room that smelled of the boy he desired and no one to shame his affection?

Ardant shrunk down with his back against the wall, the bureau before him, and the screen to his side, and unlaced his trousers. From this location, Ardant could see, peeking over him above the fireplace, the painting’s eyes watching with silent bemusement. It was cold at first, but the friction and his hand around it quickly warmed the object. He swelled inside it, and with another rush of desire found that the more he fingered the dial at the end, the tighter the compartment grew. He allowed himself a moan, louder than he intended, and so he grunted and scolded his recklessness. The tightness and smooth feel on his cock was incredible, far out preforming anything he could hope to achieve with his hand, probably only surpassed by a real mouth or ass.

Surrounded by the warm glow of his pleasure, Ardant let his eyes close and his head lay back against the wall, tense for a moment as he pondered a small sound that must have been from elsewhere in the mansion. He thought of Dorian- kneeling before him, dark, intelligent, scandalous eyes gazing up at him. Ardant bit his lip as he pushed against the back of the chamber, in his mind feeling a warm wet throat. He pulled most of the way out before slamming in again, almost hearing the other lad grunting at the renewed vigor. His pace increased as the journey grew more vivid. He reached up and grabbed his own hair, nuzzling into his sleeve and muttering ‘Oh… Dorian…!”

How disturbed he must have been, when a reply came, and kneeling in front of him, stunning and vibrant and undeniably _there,_ was the young man himself.

“Oh in-deed!” He said.

Ardant’s hands snapped to his sides and all he could feel was the cold jolt of shame running through him and every thought he feared rampaging through his mind at once. No more job, no more safety, no more mom, no more home, no more hope, no more Dorian. It was only then that he became fully aware of the other boy’s state: leaning towards him, breath under strict control, and one of his hands down his own pants. The feeling returned to the rest of his body and the heat of the space thawed his mind. He was immersed in his boss’s son’s property. He was shrugging off work just as Dorian had shrugged off his trousers. He was sitting still as possible, but Dorian continued to crawl closer and closer-

“I- I- I” Ardant managed. Dorian raised his thumb to the servant boy’s lips and Ardant’s arousal pulsed from that gaze and smile and the following words:

“Panic later- this first.” And he pulled the elf boy into his lap and Ardant experienced the sweetest, hungriest kiss he could have dreamed. But it was not a dream, it was real and… and…

Dorian slipped his tongue into the mix and Ardant’s shock and joy left him so overwhelmed that it was all he could do to moan into the other boy’s mouth, though it sounded closer to the whimper of a starving stray. Every stroke of Dorian’s tongue on his was teasing, inviting, inciting him to react. He reached out and found Dorian’s shoulder and steadied himself, his hand screaming to his brain this is real this is real this is absolutely real. Dorian retreated with slow rehearsed grace. As Ardant took shaky breaths and made a shy attempt at eye contact, Dorian smiled and leaned closer again. His hand snaked down to the dial on the toy, still tight on Ardant’s dick, and tapped it.

“Ah-a- “ Ardant retreated into his heart. In the range of the past minute, he had completely forgotten his thievery and shame at doing so. His heart raced with questions and hope at Dorian’s motivations, with panic flashing in as he watched each possible scenario end horrid and wrong. But Dorian had said…

“I-I’m sorry. It was wrong of me- for someone like me to-“ Ardant said.

“Hah!” Dorian said. “Anyone other than you and I might have had reason to cause a fuss instead of doing this.”. He kissed and nipped at the base of Ardant’s ear, but his words had the greatest affect. _Anyone other than you._

“I’ve seen you, Ardant Lavellan.” He took the wooden toy in his hand and rotated it till his fingers found their place. “You linger in the lounge until there’s no one but you to return my books to their places.” He began to move it up and down Ardnat’s length and the servant boy squirmed as Dorian flicked his tongue over his neck. “You always place them exactly where they belong.” He then slowly lifted his eyes to take hold of Ardant’s. “I’ve taken to only pulling from the top shelf as of late.” He said, and smiled.

Ardant leaned his head forwards, giving in to his fear and pleasure and desperation for Dorian’s honeyed words. The sugared truth that dripped from his lips was the most precious crystal in Ardant’s mind. He let his arms wrap around the other boy’s neck and pulled himself closer- Dorian shifted and Ardant noticed the new pressure under his thigh, and imagined how he could possibly match this treatment later. Dorian kissed him and nipped at Ardant’s ear while his hand pumped to the sweetest beat. Ardant choked on any words- berating his voice for wanting to risk giving them away. His hips pressed to and fro from Dorian’s grip, until eventually Dorian simply sustained the pressure, and Ardant lost himself nuzzled in his neck.

When Ardant came, he hugged Dorian closer. He shut his eyes tighter and tried to stay with that wonderful feeling- the presence of the beautiful boy beside him, the tension spasming into waves of pleasure. Dorian held him there, and hummed lightly- proud of himself, evidently. Ardant raised his head of his own accord.

“I…” He said, the risk on Dorian’s end as well as his own re-immerging as the stars faded from his mind. “I cannot apologize enough. This is-“ Dorian cupped a hand over the elf boy’s mouth.

“This, is fun, harmless, relaxing, and no one’s concern but yours and mine.” He smiled, and began to stand.

“Now, I prefer my cock sucked while I am sitting down, oh, and I do like to fiddle with those lovely ears- but in the past some of your kind have objected, others don’t- what is your affiliation? And you are not a slave, but I hope my performance and lending of that dear little thing will be payment enough to continue?”

Still sitting on the floor, Ardant felt his stomach turn and a slap from reality. He wanted this. He wanted this... He wanted this! He wanted this- he did, but Dorian’s lines were suddenly more business than pleasure, and down his in heart, Ardant was afraid. The curtain was seeming to fall around him- despite his glow and taste for rebellion, Dorian still had a part to play and Ardant was nothing more than a stage hand in a country of prima donnas. The painting still stared out from it’s carefully thought out place on the wall. This was Dorian’s role here. This was only ever between a foolish servant and a horny brat.

The anger was unexpected, but this had never really been a path open to him from the start. He knew that. He was stupid to have forgotten that. He let the sleeve drop with a clatter and yanked his trousers up as he stood. Dorian was only 3 inches taller than him, but Ardant could not face his gaze with his own growing thick with tears.

“My apologies, _sir,_ but I believe my heart will take the better of me.” He waited, willing every nerve in his body to sit still and the quaking in his heart to be silent. Dorian remained where he was, contemplating, processing. He was so clever.

“Where you expecting piqutte and flowers? Now _that_ would give my father a reason to ship me off again.” He laughed. Ardant shook. Dorian spoke. “Oh I have hurt you, haven’t I?”

“I’m sorry.” The panic was beginning to set in as the high point of his day shifted into an endless array of questions with unwanted answers. He didn’t know the real Dorian Pavus. He didn’t know if the concern he had just heard was real or just another act. He didn’t know anyone in this estate minus one.

“But I did not come in here seeking a whore, and I assumed you had done the same!” He said. Ardant began towards the door and collected the clothes he had yet to deliver to the rest of the household. He heard Dorian following close behind, and the remains of their encounter skittering as it was kicked across the floor in an encore.

“I do have some moral standards, albeit they are low. “ Dorian said. “You’re sure you don’t can’t- you don’t want to stay? I shan’t pursue it if you are.” He said, and Ardant didn’t hear anger. He didn’t hear judgment- just disappointment and acceptance- the sigh of a man who’s finished this scene alone before. Ardant stood at the door: guilty for the time and effort he took, mournful for the love that never could have been. He berated himself again and again, and turned to face his young master. He needed one more look to get through this before he wiped his own and tried to pretend none of it had happened- something to cling onto before he buried under his responsibility, his small family, his future.

“I’m afraid I misread our earlier interaction to have been something it was not.” He said. “To continue now would be to risk all I’ve worked for, for nothing.”

Dorian blinked at him, and then bent down to pick up the dirty prop before depositing it on the bundle of undelivered clothes in Ardant’s arms.

“Do as you will.” He said. “Though I will expect _that_ returned by morning.”

“Yes, sir.” Ardant said, and exited the room.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy ;D
> 
> may or may not have a sequel


End file.
